


nothing else but the feeling

by asael



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:59:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15466920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asael/pseuds/asael
Summary: Pynchweek day 7: home.No one would be able to tell that Adam is turning this into a careful, quiet seduction. That he’steasingRonan.





	nothing else but the feeling

**Author's Note:**

> "It's been awhile since I've written anything explicit," I thought to myself. Then somehow this happened.
> 
> Pynchweek has been real fun! Thanks for reading!

All it takes is one glace for Ronan to be able to tell that Adam doesn’t like being here much more than Ronan does.

Oh, Adam hides it better. He’s all polite Southern charm, careful to even out his accent. He asks the right questions and says the right things and all the rich fucks at the Ganseys' fundraiser coo over him, so young and smart, Ivy League and destined for greatness. He doesn’t hesitate like he once might have. He seems entirely at ease.

But Ronan knows him. He knows every inch of Adam Parrish, has spent the last four years chronicling the incline of his eyebrows when he’s angry and his loose, happy smile. He can see the tension around Adam’s eyes when he gets asked a question he doesn’t want to answer, and he can see the boredom seeping into Adam’s gaze when a story goes on too long. No one else can - Gansey or Blue might be able to, but they’re on the opposite side of the room, and neither of them is quite as avid a student of the quirks of Adam Parrish anyway.

So it’s just Ronan, who also doesn’t want to be here.

He hates Gansey parties, and avoids them when he can, though he is always issued a dutiful invitation despite the many times that has ended in chaos. He’s here now only because Adam is graduating soon and angling for a prestigious internship before grad school, and all the connections he can make here will only help that.

Adam’s ambition is bulletproof, shining and vicious, and Ronan admires and despises it equally. He knows now that Adam often feels the same way, which makes events like these easier for both of them to stomach.

Adam had, of course, told Ronan he didn’t have to come. Ronan had chosen to come, because sometimes he wants to remind both Adam and the rest of the world that they are a united front, that it’s them against the world, that he would happily lead armies to crush the world beneath his boot so that he could offer it to Adam on a silver platter. Adam Parrish, World Dictator has a pleasant ring to it.

So he’s here, and Adam’s here, and neither of them like it. But he likes watching Adam, slim and handsome in his dark suit, wrapping the room around his finger. And, as Adam’s eyes flicker to Ronan and then away, he realizes that Adam is enjoying being watched, too.

That’s intriguing. That moves them into an entirely different sort of game. Suddenly Ronan is interested in this fundraiser again - or at least he’s interested in Adam’s performance.

Nothing visibly changes. No one would be able to tell that Adam is turning this into a careful, quiet seduction. That he’s _teasing_ Ronan. It’s all glances and hidden touches, the way his eyes slide down Ronan, his fingers gently brushing against the inside of Ronan’s wrist. Their shoulders bumping, Adam leaning into him just for a moment. Adam’s fingers, again, sliding up the slim stem of a champagne flute.

Adam tells a story to the woman he’s speaking to, a clever anecdote about his roommate meeting Ronan the year before. Harmless, funny, simple, but all Ronan can think about is how in real life that anecdote had actually begun moments after Adam had finished sucking off Ronan, that he’d barely had Ronan’s cock out of his mouth before the roommate was knocking on the door, and that afterward Adam had politely ushered his roommate out so he could get down on his knees and do it again.

And then he's thinking of Adam on his knees, and it isn’t such a harmless and simple story anymore.

Ronan shifts, beginning to get uncomfortable, and Adam’s fingers brush against his wrist again. He finishes the story, the woman laughs at just the right moment, and Adam smiles at Ronan. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Fuck,” Ronan mutters the moment the woman turns away. “You shit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adam says, though the smugness in his voice makes it very clear that he does, in fact, know what Ronan is talking about.

“Fuck you,” Ronan says.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you,” Adam says, and his tone - all silken promise and quiet control - sends a sharp spike of arousal through Ronan.

“Aren’t you sick of this party yet, Parrish?” Ronan says, his voice rough, because now all he wants is to be home and fucking Adam. Now it’s all he can think about.

“No,” Adam says, and lets it last for just long enough to irritate Ronan before continuing, “but I could use a little air.”

Ronan is heading out to the gardens practically before Adam finishes his sentence.

The night air is cool and sweet, the gardens lit by a few lanterns but mostly in shadow. Ronan is able to contain himself only long enough to get a tall hedge between them and the party before he’s on Adam, pulling him close for a deep, hungry kiss. Adam kisses him back, and for all his control inside the party, his lips are just as hungry as Ronan’s. His hands clutch at Ronan’s shoulders, pulling him closer so they’re pressed together, so he can slide his thigh against Ronan’s half-hard cock.

Ronan bites back a moan, tugging at Adam’s hair to pull his head back, pressing biting kisses down his jaw and neck. Adam lets him for a moment, his own breath getting rough, before pushing Ronan away.

“I have to go back in there,” he says, just this side of breathless. “I’m not letting you leave a giant hickey on me.”

Ronan smirks. “But they look so good on you.” Everything looks good on Adam. In the soft light of the evening, he’s a creature of moonlight and shadows. Ronan wants every part of him.

Adam reaches up, runs his thumb across Ronan’s lips. Ronan nips at the pad of his thumb, slides his tongue around Adam’s finger, thinks about all the things he wants to do to Adam. He can see the spark of desire in Adam’s eyes, even in that dim light.

“Get on your knees,” Adam says, and Ronan is already hard. He can tell Adam’s in a mood, can tell that he wants to call the shots - and Ronan likes that, especially after watching Adam in his element all night. He likes it when Adam gets bossy, he likes Adam in control, and he likes when he gets to tear that control down.

That’ll come later. For now, what Ronan wants is to do as his boyfriend says. He drops to his knees on the soft grass, not particularly caring if it’ll stain his suit, and reaches up to undo Adam’s slacks and push down his briefs, just enough to free his cock. Hard, just like Ronan is, and Adam exhales shakily when Ronan touches him.

He wraps his hand around Adam, stroking him roughly, drawing out more quiet moans. He could listen to this for ages, but honestly, he doesn’t have the patience for that. When Ronan leans in and takes Adam in his mouth, Adam’s sharp intake of breath is almost a cry.

He sets to work in earnest, running his tongue along the underside of Adam’s cock, bobbing his head, taking him deeper. He can smell Adam, can feel the weight of him on his tongue, the taste of pre-come as Adam gets closer to release. But more than that, it’s Adam’s sounds that get to him.

They can still hear the sounds of the party - talking, laughter, the clink of cups. Soft music. But above that, far more immediate, are the sounds of Adam. Gentle moans, sharp gasps when Ronan moves just right. His breath quickening, the sound of fingers curled in fabric as Adam clutches at his own sleeves to keep from grabbing at Ronan. Finally Adam rests a hand on his head, long fingers skimming through the stubble there, urging him on. 

His hips move, and Ronan takes him deeper. Fumbling with his free hand, he gets his own fly open and starts stroking himself to the sound of Adam’s moans. He knows by the pitch, by the way Adam says his name, that Adam is close, and so he’s ready when Adam comes, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

He swallows it all, without hesitation. He’s done this before.

His hand is moving on his cock, and he’s getting closer and closer to the edge. He looks up at Adam, all flushed and still breathing hard, and that’s almost enough - 

And then Adam says, with only a slight waver in his voice, “Stop. You’ll make a mess.” 

Ronan stops, because when Adam looks at him like that he can’t do anything but obey, even when it feels like an almost physical pain to stop. His cock is hard and straining, he’s so close, but he stops.

As he’s trying to get control of himself, Adam cleans himself up, arranges his clothes, and he looks pristine and perfect, like he didn’t just get a blowjob behind a hedge.

He kneels down in front of Ronan and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“I want you to come inside me. When we get home.”

Then he kisses Ronan, filthy and promising and perfect, and Ronan thinks he could come without anything else.

But he doesn’t. Not when Adam’s just said _that_.

Then Adam leaves him in the garden, hard and hungry for more, and Ronan curses whatever cruel god sent Adam Parrish to punish him.

He doesn’t really mean it. He likes this game, and he likes how he knows it’s going to end.

It takes a little while before he can go back in, simmering with unspent desire and sexual tension, and when he does Adam smiles at him and takes his hand, and Ronan thinks about pressing him up against the wall and fucking him right in the middle of the Gansey family fundraiser. He’s pretty sure that would finally get him uninvited for good.

He holds Adam’s hand and glowers. Luckily Adam might have just gotten off, but Ronan knows he only has so much patience for this game, too - it’s less than twenty minutes before Adam is making polite excuses to Gansey and his family, less than thirty minutes before they’re in the car on the way home.

Adam’s in the driver’s seat, having taken the keys from Ronan in a smooth motion as they headed out to the car. Ronan allows it, as he would allow Adam just about anything right now. He likes watching Adam’s hands on the steering wheel, his sure movements. He likes watching Adam driving his car almost as much as he likes driving it himself.

There’s still desire humming through his veins. The wait has only dimmed it, and being alone in a car with Adam is always sexy anyway. There’s a tension in the car, Adam’s eyes wandering to Ronan now and again, so they both know it’s only a matter of time before somebody breaks.

“I liked that,” Adam says, the edge of his accent softening his words, and he smiles before he clarifies. “Seeing you touch yourself.”

“Fucking tease,” Ronan says, and shifts in his seat.

“You like it,” Adam says, and Ronan scowls because it’s true. He likes it when Adam teases, he likes it when Adam knows exactly what he wants and goes about getting it, he likes it when Adam tells him what to do. He likes a lot of other things too - he likes it when Adam loses control, he likes it when Adam gives it to him willingly. But this, right now? He likes this.

Adam’s eyes slide to him, speculative, and then he says, “I want to see it again.”

Ronan doesn’t bother to hide his self-satisfied smirk. “Can’t get enough, huh?” He flicks the button of his slacks open with his thumb.

“Do it slow,” Adam says. “I don’t want you to come until we get home.”

“You’re a filthy goddamn menace, Parrish,” Ronan says, and he shifts so he can free his cock, licking his palm and starting to stroke himself. Slow, like Adam said.

Ronan’s music is playing, a thumping beat like a heartbeat, like sex, but it’s low enough that he can hear Adam breathe. That he can hear the quick intake of Adam’s breath as Ronan wraps a hand around himself.

“So this is why you wanted to drive,” Ronan says, the throatiness of arousal in his voice again.

“Think about me while you do it,” Adam says, and Ronan does.

Adam doesn’t watch him the whole time. He is a responsible driver, and his eyes are on the road, but they drift to Ronan now and again, drinking in the sight of him before returning to the road. Ronan puts on a bit of a show, wanting Adam to be just as hot and bothered as him, dragging his shirt up over his abs and not even trying to muffle his groans of pleasure.

And he thinks about Adam. He thinks about the early days, fumbling and messing up and figuring themselves out, how sweet and sexy and stupid it all was. He thinks about now, when he knows exactly where to touch Adam, how to read him. He can tell from the way Adam talks, the way he kisses Ronan, when he wants to take control and when he wants to have control taken from him completely. When he just wants to have fun, to mess around like they’re stupid teenagers again, and when he wants something much more intense.

Adam can read him, too, knows when he doesn’t want to play any games, when he just wants pure devotion. Adam knows that right now he could tell Ronan to do anything in the world and Ronan would, that Ronan is entirely his, and Ronan trusts him with that - the same way Adam trusts him when their roles are reversed, when he’s willing to let Ronan do anything, anything at all, and trusts him to know exactly when to stop.

It’s communication, long years of it, and they were shit at it at first, but now?

Now, all it takes is the right look, eye contact held just long enough, the knowledge that if anything ever goes too far neither will hesitate to say something, to stop it.

God, he fucking loves Adam. He loves Adam on his knees, he loves Adam underneath him in bed, above him, the smoothness of his thighs, the thickness of his cock. He loves Adam’s mouth on him, Adam’s mouth period, the filthy things he says and the unfiltered cries when he’s right on the edge. Adam’s hands, his fingers, his wrists. His calm control, his utter lack of it, the nights Ronan makes him beg, the nights they can’t seem to stop laughing.

He wants Adam right now, spread across the backseat or maybe bent over the hood. He wants Adam to pull over and let Ronan fuck him right this instant, except Adam keeps saying _when we get home_ and Ronan knows that he means it. So instead he strokes his cock, leaning back in his seat, and stops himself every time he gets too close.

Self-control has never been a skill Ronan Lynch was good at, but as it turns out, when it’s in the service of greater rewards (pleasing Adam Parrish, getting to fuck him, pleasing them _both_ ) it’s somewhat easier.

He spends the last couple minutes of their drive home so hard he can barely see straight. He wonders for a moment what Adam would do if they got pulled over - he thinks they might actually be speeding - but it’s Adam. He always has a plan. Anyway, they don’t, and when the car finally stops at the Barns Ronan is not sure he can stand.

Adam gets out of the car and leans over, looking in at him. He’s holding on to some kind of control, but it’s clear that being in the car with Ronan this whole time has been almost too much for him, too - he’s flushed, his breath coming a little more quickly, and Ronan can see him tenting his slacks.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it home,” Adam says. Ronan bares his teeth, something like a smile. He wants to devour Adam. “You staying out here?” There’s an edge of mockery to his tone, but it only barely covers the desire.

“Jesus, you think I can stand?” Ronan says, and Adam laughs, low and amused. He walks over to Ronan’s side of the car, opening the door.

“Let me help you,” he says, and that’s all Ronan needs. He’s out of the car and pressing Adam against the back door, Adam’s chest against the edge of the roof, Ronan’s erection pushing against Adam’s ass. He can feel Adam shudder against him.

“We’re home,” Ronan says into Adam’s good ear, low and insistent. One hand pins Adam’s wrist to the car, the other uncaps the bottle of lube he took from the glove compartment while Adam was circling the car. This isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. “I’ve been real fucking good.” He moves his hips, pressing against Adam, though he can really only do it once. He’s so close already.

“Yeah,” Adam says, and he reaches down to unbutton his slacks, shove them down. Ronan doesn’t help him. “You’re not so bad at taking orders, Lynch.” His voice is starting to get shivery with need. Ronan loves the sound of it.

“Only from the right person,” Ronan says, and once Adam’s pants and briefs are out of the way, Ronan presses a slicked-up finger into him. He doesn’t have any self-control left, and he doesn’t think Adam wants him to go slow anyway. “So what’s your next order, then?”

“Fuck -” Adam says, pushing back as Ronan slides another finger inside, loosening him, readying him.

“Fuck what?” Ronan says, because he’s an asshole, because Adam’s had him on edge all night and he has just enough self-control to turn the tables right now. “Didn’t you want me to do something?”

Adam curses, low and quickly. “You’re such a shithead,” he says, holding himself up against the car, and then he says it - all Ronan was waiting for. “I want you to come inside me.”

Ronan doesn’t need to hear anything else. He’s hard, it feels like he’s been hard all night, and when he pushes into Adam it’s everything he’s been imagining. Adam is always so good, tight and hot and hungry for it, moving back against Ronan like he wants more, like he’s been waiting for this just as long.

This game has gone on for long enough, and neither of them has the patience for more. Ronan fucks Adam hard and fast, up against the car, drawing those moans and cries out of him again. He grips Adam’s wrist, tangles a hand in his hair, and holds him there as he thrusts into him, once, twice, again.

After all of that, there’s no way either of them could make it last long. Ronan loses track of time, overwhelmed by his need, but he knows it hasn’t been long at all before he’s pushing into Adam’s willing heat one last time. When he comes, it’s intense and sudden, so intense that he’s not quite sure how he stays standing, how they don’t just both end up in an awkward pile on the ground.

But he does, and he’s still inside Adam, his breath still coming hard. Recovery feels miles away, but Ronan manages to get a hand around Adam, on his cock, and it only takes a couple strokes before Adam is shuddering beneath him.

They’ll need to clean the car, and probably their suits, but Ronan doesn’t give one single fuck. He stays where he is for a long moment, trying to catch his breath, before pulling out of Adam with care and flopping back next to him, letting the car hold him up. His knees are weak.

“Jesus Mary,” he says, “you sadistic little shit,” and Adam smirks and leans over to kiss him.

“I wasn’t sure we’d make it home,” he says.

“Well, I have some goddamn self-control, unlike some,” Ronan says, and pulls Adam in for a long, slow kiss. They need to get inside, clean up. Ronan is very glad there wasn’t a soul here to see him fuck Adam Parrish up against his car under a starry night sky, but that doesn’t mean they should just hang out here. 

“I’m gonna need a bigger sample size before I can agree with that,” Adam says. 

“My sample size is pretty damn big,” Ronan says, making a vulgar gesture, and Adam rolls his eyes.

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“Wait a few minutes and I’ll give you my sample size again, nerd,” Ronan says, and he actually isn’t sure whether he’s talking dirty or just trying to make Adam laugh, but either way it seems to be working, because Adam is, in fact, stifling a laugh. 'A few minutes' is an overly optimistic suggestion, but he still wants Adam, he never stops wanting Adam.

“Jesus, Lynch, let’s at least get inside first,” Adam says, and Ronan looks at him speculatively, because now he’s thinking Adam isn’t quite done with the night yet. Now he’s thinking that Adam deserves to have his game turned around on him. Adam, spread out on their bed, at Ronan’s mercy after a night of torturing him -

Ronan’s got some ideas.


End file.
